


Afterwords

by Alpenglow3241



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, Post-Canon, Purple Prose-ish, at least inspired by it idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpenglow3241/pseuds/Alpenglow3241
Summary: It's been a year since that fateful week. Some things have changed, some have remained the same.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 33





	Afterwords

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Mehan for giving me tips that helped me find the tone for this

_It's been a year since that fateful week. Some things have changed, some have remained the same. You must be curious, aren't you ? Well then settle down and come along._

The city is not entirely silent at night, but it is calm here - it breathes more easily nowadays, ever since the verdict (the whole nation does in a way, do not forget, there are many others). There are sounds, of dogs and cars and Silence, yes, but they do not disturb. Let us now take to the gullies, going from one to the other until we get to our holy grail. There it is, can you see it, that balcony with many knicknacks - including an old beaten up couch, which was an old uncle in its last life, grudgingly allows people to sit on it, but the smallest sign of any other funny business, it lets loose all of its springs on the occupants. All of them are soaked with a faint shimmer of love, as if they were cooked with dum (perhaps they have been, you can never tell with these two oblivious boys). 

_Let us enter, come on. This is just one of our stops._

At the entrance to the balcony, there lies a crossroad, one straight to the living room, the other to the kitchen and the last one leading up to the bedroom. You can feel a faint mixture of love, contentment and happiness here, a warmth in this empty space. A crossroad of warmth for this haven of love.

The living room has a sofa by one wall and a dinner table by the other. There are many photos on the walls, some of the family, some of friends, some only of the two of them. The wall has had many additions to it, more than expected. A faint whiff of fear lies still on the older frames. But those were different times, more uncertain times (more scarier times). Also the happiness in the newer frames do a good job of drowning out the fear, curling around every corner, lighting up the room in the faint glow of joy.

The kitchen is perfectly arranged - different containers gleaming faintly from the shelves, cups and glasses hanging from their hooks, the various utensils kept neatly in their places. The fridge hums tenderly, the sounds of a full kitchen - utensils clacking, the sizzle of spices, soft laughter, _love, love, love_ \- in the memory of its echo. The contentment of the hum blankets every dark edge of the kitchen in a mellow warmth.

In the bedroom, the two of them lie on the bed. They lie there in half slumber, straddling the realm between sleep and wakefulness, where reality and dreams mesh to create something beautiful and other. A blanket half covers their entwined bodies. Their foreheads are pressed together, unconscious butterfly kisses and nose kisses showered on each other (even sleep does not stop them from lavishing each other with love). The nose ring and earring glint twinly in the moonlight shining through the curtains. In its soft glow, they look younger, innocence coloring their tranquil faces. Music dances on the air, muffled enough by the walls to not disturb. Love thrums in its each note, coating every inch of the room in it even more.

_Let us now part our ways, leave these two lovers to their half slumber, to their dreams that are reality these days. There is a priceless contentment, a fearless happiness in the house now. But the love, it is here, past, present, future, ever eternal. (Some things have changed, some things remain the same.) It is enough._

**Author's Note:**

> This was kind of a writing experiment, trying out a different style. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Leave some comments, I love to hear what y'all have to say
> 
> Edit: Butterfly kisses are affectionate gestures made by fluttering your eyelashes over someone's skin or eyelashes  
> Forgot to add this first time around


End file.
